


Ghosts.

by nirroca



Series: Lavender [21]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bittersweet Spookiness, Cassandra reads sad ghost stories by Varric, Established Relationship, F/F, Halloween 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirroca/pseuds/nirroca
Summary: Ghost stories, warm hearths and the eve of Ellana's birthday.OrCassandra finds bittersweet tenderness in an unexpected story.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast, Female Lavellan/Cassandra Pentaghast
Series: Lavender [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/607711
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Ghosts.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a something a little spooky for Halloween.

_Travellers tell of an old abandoned house in a dark and lonely wood. Some say that the house isn’t there. Not really. That it appears to lost and lonely travellers on dark and stormy nights. Others say that it's a broken shell of weathered boards and broken windows._

_However it appeared travellers all agreed on one thing. It should be avoided at all costs. Or, if one’s misfortune was dire enough the house would allow you to stay until the first grey streaks of dawn appeared over the horizon. But if you remained when the morning light crept across the cracked and splintered threshold that was where you would stay._

_Some travellers thought it foolishness, a local legend to keep quiet paths undisturbed. Others heeded the words, days added to their journeys to avoid the place - out of both fear and respect. Every year a few reckless souls took the legend as a challenge. And every year they were never seen again._

_Though one traveller tells of their time there with fondness. Tells of an old house in a sun-dappled wood, their only company the wind and the birds as they made their way through the quiet landscape. It was chance that they stopped there. A late afternoon autumn storm saw them finding shelter from angry leaves and cold rain._

_For them, they say, though large the house was quiet and welcoming. The feeling of someone just having left lingers in the air, along with the smell of tea and something they can’t quite name._

_Despite the storm that rages outside there was a cosiness within those walls. Though by all appearances it looked like no one was home, fire was burning happily in the hearth, and the unfamiliar smell seemed to linger in the plush armchair they sat in to rest their road-weary feet._

_A small book rests beside them on a spindly-legged table. Curious, the traveller reaches for the smooth black leather spine, in the hopes of seeing the name._

_Before they can catch a glimpse of the title they’re interrupted, their hand hovering over the book when they hear a voice._ _  
_ _  
_ _“What are you doing?”_

_The traveller freezes._

_“You shouldn’t be here,” the voice tells them impatiently._

_Now the traveller had seen many things in their time and compared to most they would consider themselves to be unfazed by what they come across in their line of work._

_But, that isn’t to say that the traveller was unmoveable._

_They rise, to greet the voice and apologise for imposing on their hospitality, only to be caught by surprise at the sight before them._

_Perhaps, the traveller thinks, the woman before them is the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen. Perhaps it is hard to say. Perhaps, they will spend the rest of their life comparing all others that they meet to them. They don’t know._

“This is trite,” Cassandra huffs looking up from the page that she is reading “Varric has almost outdone himself.”

“It's sweet,” Ellana laughs softly, gazing at Cassandra affectionately. The weight of her warm, comfortable against her thigh.

Like so many nights before Cassandra found herself anchored to the lounge in front of the fireplace, warmed by both flame and the body that rested against her. Reading until she felt Ellana grow heavy, finally asleep despite fighting her tiredness to spend one last moment with her before the responsibilities of tomorrow dragged her away.

“‘The Traveller’?” Cassandra groans “Who are they? What are they doing.”

“Oh hush vhenan,” Ellana smiles, her eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Cassandra rolls her eyes with a snort, finding the place where she left off and continuing to read. 

_The woman is pale, like the shadow of a moon, with silvery hair that coils around her shoulders. She is small, but there is no mistaking her presence._

_There is a familiarity that surprises the traveller, something about her feels like they’ve met her before. And maybe they have. But surely they would remember meeting such a woman._

_But maybe not, considering the tales that lingered about this place._

_“You shouldn’t be here,” the woman speaks again, this time with more force._

_“My apologies,” The traveller begins. “I only seek shelter from the storm, forgive me for imposing.”_

_“She speaks,” the woman muses, looking at the traveller curiously._

As she reads Cassandra finds herself being drawn into the story. A travelling warrior seeking shelter from the storm. A lonely ghost trapped in a house in the woods, cursed to not know peace. The tales are more a defence than a truth. The last wish of a woman gone before her time, burned in the name of a god she didn’t believe in for a crime she didn’t commit.

She feels her eyes burn at the thought of love found too late. Lovers that were destined to meet before the cruel hand of fate intervened. Maybe it didn’t matter? Maybe what mattered was that despite everything they met at all.

For the ghost, the moment of happiness was enough. It was the thing that they were missing, and now that they had found it they were free to pass on to whatever awaited them.

But for their love, it was a burden. An ache they had to live with for the rest of their days, knowing that nothing could ever compare. Not really.

But despite this there was hope. That eventually the two could - _would_ \- be reunited.   
  
Somehow Varric managed to weave a bittersweet story that pierced something deep within Cassandra’s heart. Not that she would ever tell him such. It was bad enough she ‘owed’ him after convincing him to write the story in the first place. And she suspected he only did it because of both his fondness of Ellana and his desire to poke and prod at her every chance that he got.

At some point Ellana has fallen asleep, her small form heavy as Cassandra marks her page and shuts the book quietly trying not to wake her. It's a testament to how many times she’s done it that Cassandra can lift Ellana without stirring her from her sleep. Or maybe it was because of how tired Ellana always seemed to be these days.

Once settled under the sheets and blankets Ellana seems to gravitate towards her even in rest, and Cassandra shifts in the darkness to meet her, tangling her limbs with hers. 

“Love you,” Ellana mumbles half-awake against her throat.  
  
“Happy birthday my love,” Cassandra breathes into the darkness, drawing her closer with a kiss, hoping that if she held her close enough she could keep the ghosts that haunt them at bay. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> (and yes this was basically a ghost Ellana / Cassandra meet-cute because they're destined to find each other in every universe I imagine them in.)


End file.
